


An Heir To The Throne

by theretroprincess



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a roleplay, I Don't Even Know, I got an idea and ran with it, Kind of Parent!lock, M/M, Maybe Sherlock will show up, mormor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theretroprincess/pseuds/theretroprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are few people in the world as brilliant as Jim. He knows that, Sebastian knows that. But when a small boy ends up in their flat, in the dead of night, it looks like he has the spark that makes a criminal mastermind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost Sheep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Startwiththeridingcrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Startwiththeridingcrop/gifts).



> Okay, so this is basically a roleplay between me and my best friend, which I adapted. The first chapter is backstory for my original character, but Jim and Seb will feature heavily from the second chapter and onwards.   
> Anyway, enjoy!

Othello had been in the system for a few months now. Being shifted from foster parents and various care homes was starting to get tiresome for him. Everywhere he had been since the death of his mother had said that Othello was deeply damaged. Some of the unkind fosterers said that he was mad. He didn't care much what they said. They were just stupid and boring.  
The new home was worse than all the others though. A home for troubled kids, they called it. But he didn't think he was troubled. If Ariel was considered normal, then so was he. They were twins, they shared everything. So why had she been adopted and Otter had been left behind?

He thought about this often as he sat alone in his bedroom. He didn't like the other kids here and by the way they acted, it was obvious that they didn't like him either. They hated the fact that he was clever, far more so then them. So they attacked him. They singled him out and made him their victim. They pushed him around, called him names, made fun of the fact that he was an orphan. And when the staff weren't looking, the abuse became physical. They punched and kicked him, leaving him bruised and battered. He screamed at them to stop, his voice hoarse and quiet. He vowed revenge on them, his eyes red and puffy from all the tears he shed. But they didn't heed his warnings. They carried on and even when Otter spoke to the care workers, they turned a blind eye. He showed them the bruises, but still nothing. All because he occasionally said things that the staff didn't approve of.  
Walking into the office of the head care worker, Jade, Othello stood in front of the desk. He was obviously distressed, his face red and around his neck, two clear hand marks.  
"Excuse me... Jack. He grabbed me and decided to choke me. He only stopped when Greg came in the room and pulled him off. What are you going to do about this?" He tried to keep his anger internalized and his tone polite, that was the only way anyone would listen to him. If he played up to the fact that he was small for his age and considered 'cute'.   
Jade looked up at him, dark eyes meeting his bright, tear filled ones. This boy had been nothing but trouble since he arrived. He had only been here a month, but he'd already gotten into several fights. She'd attempted to stop the older boys bullying him, but in a way, she understood why they did. Othello was a strange boy. Although he looked cute and harmless on the outside, there was something unnerving about his big, green eyes. They seemed to look into Jade's soul and pick out every single secret and insecurity she had. And she hated it. She hated the way he studied her, head tilted to the side.  
"Othello. The other boys are just roughhousing. Boys will be boys. I'm sure there was no malice in it." Peering over her glasses, she looked down at him. And she was surprised to see that the scared expression was gone. It was replaced by a glacial look, she could feel the ice starting to freeze her blood. All the from one look. A look from a seven year old.  
"Now, you're gonna listen to me and you're gonna listen good. Either you do something about these ... bullies or I will make sure that everyone knows about your filthy little secret. Do you understand me?" His voice was laced with venom and Jade was shaken.  
"You will not threaten me like that, Othello Alexander Jones. Now, go to your room or I will be forced to call your social worker." Her voice remained strong as she reprimanded the small big, although inside she was terrified. It was clear he had some information on her, she just didn't know what.

Narrowing his eyes, he stared at her. It was time to pull out his ace. The thing he saved for when people deserved punishment.  
"Clearly, this job doesn't pay much. I mean, look at the building. It's basically falling down around us. But there you sit, Jade Felicity Dormer. That's a ridiculous name, by the way. Did your parents know you were going to be a failure? Because that's all you could be with a name like that." He smirked a little at the growing discomfort that Jade was displaying. He hate people using his full name, so he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

"You're wearing Prada." He said bluntly, looking at her shoes. Jade too, glanced down at her feet. She had no idea why he pointed that out and she glanced at him with confusion.

"How on earth do you afford such expensive shoes in a job like this? They're not second hand, the sticker is on the bottom. So, bought within the last few days. That's odd." His eyes were penetrating her and she almost shuddered beneath his gaze.  
"I had some money in a savings account." That was all she could say. Jade had no idea why she was answering to a child, but she did. He hands twisted in the metal of her necklace, anxiously.

"Liar. You fiddle with your necklace when you lie. It's an obvious tell. So you've got yourself a job on the side. Nothing wrong with that. But, wait a minute, you must have found something with /very/ flexible hours. You're here pretty much every day. So, you work nights. Before you leave work, you put on a fresh layer of make up. You always wear matching underwear, often black. I may be young but I know what that means. People only preen and alter their appearance when they want someone to like them." 

He was getting dangerously close. This wasn't guesswork. This was what Otter had trained himself to see. He could see through the lies and he saw what was underneath. Filth. Fakery. Everyone was the same under it all. They were all a skeleton. They were all pathetic wastes of space. No one understood what happened in his was and they thought he was mad. Perhaps he was, but he liked it. It allowed him to see the truth.  
"You have two phones. Only certain types of people have two phones. Those that lead a double life. So you have something you're ashamed of, but you do it to make money and keep yourself in expensive shoes and tarty clothes. It's not drugs, you don't look like a junkie. So there is only one thing my 'tiny, childish brain' can jump to. You're a whore. In the night, you go an crawl the streets, selling yourself and hoping no one recognises you." The look of glee that flashed across his face was not missed by Jade and she stood, he hands hitting the table as she did so.

"Get out, you vile little boy! I shall be putting in for your removal immediatly!" She was shaking and Othello giggled. A laugh that was so childish and pure that it made Jade's blood run cold again. She watched as he turned on his heels and strolled out of the office, seemingly forgetting why he was there in the first place.

It was that moment that Otter decided that he would no longer stay in this horrible place. He walked through the corridors, glaring at anyone that attempted to look at him. Entering his bedroom, he shut the door quietly behind him and began packing. Shoving a few clothes into a backpack, he realised that was all he would need. He didn't have many belongings in the first place and the only sentimental item he had was a photograph of him and Ariel and their father. He didn't keep it for his father, not at all. He did it so he would never forget his twins face. Not even when his started to look older. Climbing onto his desk, he pushed the window open and climbed down the old building. Luckily, the bricks had eroded over time and there were a lot of holes that he could use to keep himself anchored to the wall. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he started running. And he never really stopped.

Days and days were spent on the street, Otter wandering from one place to another, trying to find somewhere safe for a child to sleep. But those places were limited in London. Every time he found himself in a big, old building, he had to hide from the older people that ran the streets. And he always pulled out that photograph and stared at his sisters face. She was the only person he missed in the slightest. He didn't miss his father. The man died when they were four years old and all that Othello could remember about him was that he always smelt like smoke and was covered in tattoos. He didn't miss his mother. How could he? She was the woman that used to beat him almost every day. Ariel never got the punishment. She was the golden child, loved and adored by everyone that met her. But Otter... He was thought of as evil. Every time anything went wrong, he'd get the blame and he'd get the punishment. Since he was four, he'd been in hospital at least 30 times, varying degrees of injuries. There were more times than that though. He knew there was.  
Some of the neighbours whispered, said that he had made his mum kill herself. That wasn't true. Othello just happened to walk in and find his mother, wrists cut open and the tub full of blood. There was indeed a lot of blood. Otter found it hard to pull his eyes away from the bath tub, filled with crimson liquid. The police found him, sitting on the bathroom floor, hand in hand with his twin sister. She had obviously been crying, he had not. That's why people thought he was insane. They saw him and believed he was crazy, unhinged, desensitised to the world. But he wasn't. He just didn't love that woman anymore. He couldn't.  
Scrunching up the photograph, he shoved it in his pocket and crossed his arms. Sighing, he curled up on the floor, attempting to get some sleep. But that was hard with the nightmares that plagued him and the noises in his head.


	2. Breaking and Entering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otter begins his search and finds out a lot of information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took me a while to write. And I might have lied when I said Seb and Jim would be in this chapter. I went a bit overboard with my character development. Definitely the next chapter though. Like 100%.  
> I promise.

**Chapter 2**

He'd heard whisperings, that much was true. The name 'Moriarty' cropped up often within the circles of the homeless. A man far crueler than anyone before him. A man who could turn a government around with the mere mention of his name. A man who single handedly ran every single criminal operation, because he could. 

Otter heard all this by being in places he wasn't exactly meant to be. Scummy bars where the homeless, the criminals and the downright nasty gathered, in the empty houses where they hid from the temperamental London weather. 

_"He can't live in the city, he just can't. Someone like that would attract attention."_

"He just keeps all his money in his house. It'd be a major haul if anyone broke into Moriarty's house."

"I've heard that he has a pet tiger. Guards his house and if anyone tries to break in, it just eats them. Most they found of anyone was bones."

Otter heard it all. Every rumour, every detail, every plan and every death. That part was at least true. If you messed with Moriarty, you'd never be seen again. But that didn't stop his curiosity. That didn't stop him wandering into the library every day to use the Internet, hood pulled up over his unwashed hair, to try and find the home of the illusive criminal. If he found that house, he could live like a king. No more stealing half eaten scraps from restaurants, no more scrounging through bins for a tossed away chicken leg. If he found that house and managed to get even half of the money that was rumoured to be there, he'd be the richest 7 year old in England. Of course, there was still the matter of the authorities to deal with, but Othello knew how to get them off his tail. He knew how to make himself disappear. All he needed was a computer.

Computers were always his area of expertise. From a young age, he liked to pull them apart, see how they worked and put them back together again. And when that got too easy for him, he turned his hand to hacking. A few lines of computer code and a keen eye and boom, he could get into anywhere. He could wipe himself off the face of the earth, he could create false foster parents for himself, he could even make it look like he'd died.

And that was what he did. Othello wiped himself from the system, made up a sweet old aunt in Scotland that had come to claim him and he was free. Free to do as he wished.

It was dark when he left the library, the street illuminate by lampposts. Shoving his tiny hands into the pockets of his jeans, he headed back to the house where he had been staying. It wasn't clean, it wasn't safe, but it had a roof and that was good enough for him. Eyes fixed on the pavement, he shuffled through the tourists, careful not to draw attention to himself. If anyone spotted him, they'd wonder why a boy as small as him was wandering around so late at night. They'd call the police. The police meant he'd get sent back to that awful children's home. They'd discover his treachery with the computer and then, god knows what would happen to him.

Pulling paper from his pocket, Otter stared at the words intently. His search for Moriarty and his pet tiger had proven especially fruitful that day. He had an address. All it had taken was two weeks of solid searching, research and eavesdropping. But finally, he had found it. The house of the dreaded Mr. Moriarty. 

It was exactly what Otter had expected. Rich side of London, far away from the children's home he'd been forced to live in. The building was huge and according to the address, Moriarty's flat was on the top floor. Penthouse, of course. So all he had to do was find an opening. Four floors wasn't hard to climb... Sort of.  
Otter waited until the dead of night, circling the building, looking for weak spots and easy entry points. And then, he saw it. A hand opened a window on the top floor and just like that, jackpot.  
 _'Whoever was using that room was in and out pretty quickly, so a bathroom. An awning above the front door provides the height I need, with a drainpipe to shimmy up. I should be in within ten minutes or so.'_ His brain ticked over as he silently studied the building. He was stoic, quiet, collected for someone that was about to rob London's king of crime. 

The climb took slightly longer than ten minutes. His calculations were off, the drainpipe being a jump of five foot from the awning. With Otter just about scrapping four and half foot, it was a leap of faith. But he trusted his own hands. If he didn't, he wouldn't have never made it out of his mother's grasp. Constant nights clambering out his bedroom window and up into his treehouse and hiding there had made him very efficient. If there's one thing his violent bitch of a mother had taught him, it was how to climb seemingly impossible things. Flinging himself across, Otter clung to the drainpipe for dear life, his tiny hands struggling to get a grip. But he soon found his footing and was scampering up the pipe as fast as he could.  
Peering through the window, he slid in, careful not to make any noise. But that wouldn't make any difference. Of course there was an alarm system that he tripped as soon as his shoeless feet hit the ground. He heard the quiet beeping and the footsteps that followed. Diving into the gap beside the toilet, Otter made himself as small as possible, held his breath and waited.  
He's awoken the tiger.  
And boy, was he scared.


End file.
